


New Employment

by MagnetoTheMagnificent



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Gender Dysphoria, Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Trans Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent
Summary: It's the morning of the day Nanny Ashteroth and Brother Francis are supposed to arrive at the Dowlings. Crowley is late.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	New Employment

Aziraphale glanced at the wall clock and frowned. Crowley was supposed to drive over so that they could have breakfast together. Then, they’d change into their disguises and head to the Dowlings household. He looked at the clock again- Crowley was late. 

“The one day I ask him to not be late, he oversleeps,” Aziraphale muttered.

He knew the old serpent liked his beauty rest, but really, they had a schedule to keep to. Annoyed, he poured his coffee into a thermos and wrapped up the croissants he had bought. He had even gotten chocolate- Crowley’s favourite. 

He hailed a cab, which miraculously pulled up right as he held up his hand. The drive to Mayfair was blessedly short, and Aziraphale jogged up Crowley’s building, precariously balancing the thermos and bag of pastries in his hands. One of Crowley’s neighbours was gracious enough to hold the lift for him, and he shifted on his feet until the lift reached his friend’s floor. Finally, he reached Crowley’s door.

Aziraphale nudged the doorbell with his elbow, already preparing his speech about tardiness for when Crowley opened the door. He could hear the bell reverberating from within the flat, but strangely, not the tired footsteps of a grumpy demon woken from his slumber. The angel frowned. He moved the thermos and bag into one arm as he fumbled awkwardly in his pocket for his key ring. There were at least ten keys on his key ring, most having belonged to all the various places he and Crowley had lived in the past few decades or so. At present time, there were only three keys which ever became of any use: the key to his bookshop, the key to his flat, and of course, the key to _Crowley’s_ flat. It had been a part of their little arrangement- Crowley had a key to his flat, just in case something terrible happened. Or in case they wanted to nip in and borrow a book or a flask of whiskey while the other was away. 

He slid the key into the lock and turned the door handle and walked inside. 

The first thing he did was set down his things before they spilled. He knew Crowley liked to keep his flat impeccable clean and tidy, and a mocha latte spill all over his foyer would not make him happy. Next, Aziraphale looked around. The flat didn’t look disturbed, and didn’t smell of any demonic, or, perish the thought, angelic presence out of the ordinary. 

He walked towards Crowley’s bedroom. Crowley’s disguise was strewn all over his bed and floor, as if it had been torn off in a panic. The en-suite bathroom door was closed, and Aziraphale could hear the shower running. 

“Crowley, are you in there?” Aziraphale called as he knocked on the door. 

There was a moment of silence before he heard Crowley’s muffled reply. 

“I- uh, I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Will you?” asked Aziraphale, who knew that a moment could mean anywhere between a minute and a decade with Crowley. 

“Uh, ngh, yeah, I’ll- I’ll be out in a jiff,” came Crowley’s hurried answer. 

He heard what sounded like someone moving, and then a loud thud. 

“Crowley, are you alright?” he asked in alarm. 

All he could hear was a moan as the response. Well, that did it for the angel, and he pushed open the door.   
Crowley was splayed out on the tile floor, water pooling around him from the shower. He moved his head when Aziraphale barged in, a dazed look on his face. 

“Oh dear,” murmured Aziraphale as he reached over to turn off the shower. 

The water had gone cold, which meant that Crowley had to have been in there for a while. It also explained why he slipped- the demon had poor control of his senses when the temperature dropped. Aziraphale grabbed a soft towel from the rack and gently wrapped it around his friend as he scooped him into his arms. His bedroom was far warmer, and so he helped him to the other room. 

“What happened, my dear?” Aziraphale asked once he had settled Crowley by the heater, now wrapped in two warm towels. 

Crowley looked at him with wretched eyes, tired and sunken and red. 

“I can’t do it, angel,” he said hoarsely. 

Aziraphale looked around. 

“Can’t do what?”

“This nanny-antichrist-undercover business! I can’t do it!” 

Crowley collapsed onto his bed, and stared sullenly at the ceiling. He tossed a petticoat across the room, where it burst into flames in his waste bin. 

“A bit of a fire hazard, don’t you think?” Aziraphale remarked, trying to ease the tension. 

Crowley glared at him. 

“You were so excited designing your nanny disguise- a chic take on Mary Poppins- why the sudden doubts?” he wondered. 

“I had fun designing it, angel. Planning is fun- felt like espionage stuff, like James Bond action stuff. But the real thing?” Crowley tried explaining, gestering pointlessly with his hands. 

“It’s different,” he sighed.

He sniffled, and Aziraphale handed him a tartan handkerchief. Crowley wiped his nose before continuing. 

“I got all dressed up in the nanny suit, went out, got ready to drive to the shop, and some bloke held open the door for me,” he said. 

“Yes, that’s generally the polite thing to do,” said Aziraphale, unsure of what the issue was. 

“Yes, but that’s not the point. The point is what he said, angel. He said, ‘ladies first,’” Crowley explained ruefully. 

“Erm, well, when dressed in Edwardian period skirts, there tends to be an assumption-”

“But that’s not _me_!” Crowley cried. 

“I’m not a lady, I’m not a woman, and I don’t-” he struggled to put his thoughts into words. 

He took a deep breath.

“They’re gonna see me as a woman, but that’s not how I want to be seen. I try so hard to look like a proper man. It just doesn’t feel right, you know?” 

Aziraphale pat his hand empathetically. 

“You’d be uncomfortable being the nanny?” he asked. 

Crowley nodded. 

“And that’s not to mention having to be around the Antichrist- who could kill me, you know. You at least have some protection being an angel- wouldn’t want to start the war prematurely or anything. But I’m just a nobody- he could kill me and Downstairs would say he was doing a good job,” he added, shuddering at the mere thought. 

“And your Head Office specifically wants _you_ to be the nanny?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Yep. I earned it, or something,” Crowley answered darkly. 

“Well, they aren’t _really_ going to check up, will they?”  
“Well, not anymore than they usually do- I think they’re scared of him or something. Trying to keep their distance.”

Aziraphale smiled a devilish smile and pulled Crowley to his feet. 

“Angel, what-”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said seriously. 

“Would any one of our head offices really notice if we swapped places?”

“You mean, I be the gardener and you be the-”

“Yes! I would be the nanny, and of course still influence the child for Hell, just as we do in our Arrangement. And you, dear, would be the saintly gardener, influencing him towards the light.”

Crowley seemed to consider the idea, and then smiled. 

“I do like gardening,” he agreed, the light beginning to return to his eyes. 

“You’ll have to keep the ‘talking’ to a minimum, though, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale reminded him. 

“Oh, that only applies to my plants, angel. It’d be weird to talk to someone else’s plants. Plus outdoor plants are less of rogue bastards than indoor plants,” Crowley grinned.

“Right, then, it’s settled,” announced Aziraphale happily, clapping the demon on the back. 

“You get dressed in your everyday clothes, drink your coffee I brought and have your breakfast, and then we’ll head over to my place. I’ll dig up some clothes from my drag days in the sixties, and we’ll figure out something for your gardener outfit. Does that sound good?”

“You brought me breakfast?” Crowley asked quietly. 

“Oh, um, of course, dear boy. You need to eat, after all. And I wouldn’t forget about you.”

“Thank you, angel,” Crowley whispered, and gave him a quick hug.

Aziraphale wished it had lasted longer. 

***

And so, later that day two new employees arrived at the Dowling household. One Miss Ashtaroth, who answered the advertisement for a nanny, and one Brother Francis, who was hired as the gardener.


End file.
